


The Rockbell Chronicles

by UP2L8



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:55:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22227502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UP2L8/pseuds/UP2L8
Summary: The time had come for Granny to talk of many things.
Comments: 25
Kudos: 50





	The Rockbell Chronicles

**Author's Note:**

> This came out of left field, which is no surprise. I’ve been wandering that field lately.

Resembool was officially a town in the Eastern region of Amestris, but it was actually much father south than many of the towns in the Southern province. Well known for its sheep and cattle farms, the East was also the nation’s breadbasket, producing many staple crops year round thanks to the moderate temperatures the region enjoyed. Edward could count on one hand the number of times the ground had been white here in his lifetime. Trudging up the path to Rockbell Automail through ankle-deep snow yesterday morning had been something of a novelty.

So was the view from the porch today: low rolling hills dusted with a crisp, even layer of pure white under a cloudless sky so blue it almost broke Ed’s heart.

And Ed was not the only one appreciating it.

When he had come outside with his coffee that morning Granny had greeted him with characteristically coarse cheer from her rocker, bundled up in her shawl with a thick quilt over her legs. She was showing her age, which was worrisome for someone who so rarely did. Ed couldn’t remember when he had looked at this woman and seen anything but solid strength.

She quirked a wry grin, probably at Ed’s expression, took a deep drag from her long-stemmed pipe, puffed out a perfect ring, and patted the bench beside her. 

Ed sat. “Beautiful morning.”

“Sometimes just the fact that you woke up makes it a beautiful morning,” Granny remarked with her quirky smile.

Ed snorted his agreement.

“I’ll be heading out on the first train west,” he said.

Granny did not remark on the fact that he had only just arrived. Nodding, she switched her pipe to the other hand, slipping the free one under the quilt to warm it. 

Ed explained anyway. “Hard for me to hold still,” he said apologetically. “I guess I’m a lot more like my old man than I like to admit.”

She pursed her lips and examined him critically. “You do bear a strong resemblance to your father, but I see more of your grandfather, Trisha’s father, in the line of your jaw, and in your nature.” Another smoke ring punctuated her observation.

Ed’s eyebrows shot up. He had never heard that before, from Granny or anyone else for that matter.

Granny didn’t react to his expression. She pulled her shawl closer around her shoulders and took another long draw from her pipe. “The Rockbell family has lived here on this hill for many generations, too many to count. Our spouses, men and women alike, may take on the family name if they so choose, but we-all, sons and daughters, never give it up. Our children always take our name. Winry’s children will be Rockbells. That’s our way.”

This wasn’t news to Ed; he was well aware of this family’s traditions. Here in the out-country traditions were the yarn that wove family and folk together. In his life and in his travels Ed had discovered that rural communities had their own individual customs to anchor their daily lives, traditions passed down through the generations for far longer than the Armstrong’s established pedigree could boast. Resembool was no different.

But this conversation was going somewhere, and Ed was willing to wait and see just where. Granny in a garrulous mood was a novelty, and her point was always something you needed to hear.

“Your grandmother, Diana Hagen, was my best friend.” The old woman settled a bit deeper into the rocker. “She lived in the village, and even though I lived away up here on the hill, we got together as often as we could. My mother was the town doctor, and my father was the best veterinarian in the county. Di’s parents owned and operated the bakery. It was the best in town, we used to say, because it was the only one.” Granny grinned. “It was all in fun. She was a clever girl, your grandmother, full of mischief, but a kind, caring sort. No friend or classmate in distress went uncomforted or undefended with her around. No stray cat or dog went unfed.”

This was new. Granny generally shared interesting tidbits about the town’s history, but any personal history lessons she deemed glorified gossip. Eyes fixed in the distance, she continued to peer into the past, drawing Ed along with her.

“Your grandfather, Eustace Elric, was a migrant worker,” she said, a small smile on her lips. “Handsome man. Hard worker. He used to come through for the spring planting and circle back through for the harvest in the fall. In the summer he worked farther north in the tobacco fields, and in the winter he worked the vineyards of southern Creta. When the fall harvest was in, all the seasonal workers would stay an extra day or two and join the townsfolk to celebrate on bonfire night. I think that’s how he and Diana got to know each other.” She tapped her pipe against the arm of the rocker, noticed it was out, and relit it. “I remember him as a quiet man with a far and away look in his eye, though he always had a smile on his face and a ready helping hand.”

Edward listened intently, barely breathing so as not to break the spell. He had never heard this story, and just wished Al was beside him to hear it too. 

“When I was sixteen automail was brand new and considered the wave of the future. I wanted to catch that wave, so I went to apprentice with an automail mechanic in Rush Valley and ended up on the leading edge of the technology.” That dreamy smile was back. “I met my Misha there at the time, though he didn’t court me until after we had finished our training. When I returned to Resembool, Eustace had left his wandering ways behind and was working as a farmhand for the Renbak family, and he and Diana were thick as thieves. Our weddings were a month apart. Trisha was born six weeks before my Yuri.”

Ed watched as the smile faded from the old woman’s lips, her eyes still on the horizon. 

“One summer evening when your mother was eight years old, your grandfather came home from the fields to find the bakery on fire. He rushed inside and managed to save Trisha, but by then the building was fully engulfed in flames. He’d barely made it out with his daughter and couldn’t get back in to save his wife or her parents.” Granny finally looked at Ed, somber. “Not that he didn’t try. Took three strong men to hold him back.”

Elbow on the back of the bench giving Granny his full attention, Ed realized he’d forgotten all about his cup of coffee. He took a swallow of the cooled liquid to clear the tightness of his throat. This trip down memory lane had unexpectedly swerved into a minefield.

“The loss of Diana left Eustace completely devastated.” Granny sighed deeply. “After a week of sitting in our parlor staring into space, he asked if Misha and I would look after Trisha for a bit while he came to terms with his grief. Of course we agreed. Eustace left town that afternoon. We never saw him again. To this day I wonder if he ran away from the memories of what he’d lost, or rushed out to join the love of his life.”

A familiar feeling welled up, anger mixed with helplessness, the echo of emotion for another abandoned child. Granny was still watching him. Ed said nothing. He didn’t have to. Granny continued.   
  
“Now poor Trisha had to come to terms with the loss of her father on top of everything else. Yuri teamed up with her best friend, Sara Ross, the daughter of the general store’s proprietor. Between the two of them, they gradually pulled Trisha out of her grief. Yuri and Sara became close through it all. At sixteen Yuri went away to train as a surgeon. When Sara went with him so they could train together, I knew they had become more than friends. Sara was serious, level headed, and probably the smartest person I’d ever met, next to your father, and Misha and I were happy our son had made such a good match.”

The Elrics and Rockbell families as always been close, and not simply because of the proximity of their homes. Ed and Al had thought of Winry’s parents as their aunt and uncle, just as Winry felt the same about Trisha. They all considered Granny their grandmother, which made more sense now that Ed knew the old woman had raised their mom. The loss of Winry’s parents had been devastating for everyone.

Granny’s winding tale was not yet fully told.

“I knew your father for many a year, as far back as 1860 I guess,” she said, thoughtful. “Met him in Rush Valley close to the end of my apprenticeship. I was a bit wild at the time, and it was my custom to challenge any new face who happened into the local tavern to a drinking contest. Van was the only one who ever managed to drink me under the table. He gradually went from a casual drinking partner to become my oldest and dearest friend. I didn’t care that he was a little strange, and the fact that he never aged over the fifty years that I knew him was a curiosity and nothing more. He would often come to visit after I set up my practice in Resembool, doing alchemy repairs and odd jobs while he was in town. His quiet, unassuming manner made him very popular in and around the township.”

It was common knowledge that Hohenheim and Granny were old friends. Ed never knew how they had met until now.

“I wasn’t pleased when Trisha caught his eye, and he hers, even though I was the one to introduce them,” Granny went on. “As young as he looked, I knew he was at least my age. But Trisha was too serious a girl to be flighty or easily taken in by smooth talk, so I didn’t worry much, at first. It got more and more serious between them, though, and the way they looked at each other – by the time I realized that they were in love, it was too late. I knew my warning would fall on deaf ears.”

Though he knew without question that his mother had loved his father until the bitter end, Ed had never been sure that the reverse was true.

Until Granny had told him how she had found his old man at Trisha’s final resting.

“Then Trisha turned up pregnant.” The old woman snorted, still irritated at difficult situations long past resolving. “Van came to me, thrilled and terrified at the same time. He wanted to buy our back forty to build a house for her. I sold it to him. He transmuted the house in a matter of minutes, which was the talk of the town for years. I worried for Trisha though, because when Van said he wanted to build a house, it was for _her_ , and not for _them_. He had been a nomad for all the time I’d known him, and as much as I hoped for the best, I didn’t think he’d sit still for long.

Then you were born, and Alphonse soon after, and a few more years went by, and you all looked very happy. I was beginning to think that I had been wrong.

And then he left. And Trisha took sick. And well, here we are.”

Granny heaved out another great sigh, eyes lingering on the top of the hill, where two graves rested side by side. It was clear that this story was taking a toll, but Ed was starting to understand why he was hearing it, and what she was telling him.

That she knew.

Her pipe had gone out. She relit it while Ed braced himself for her judgement.

“I’ve seen a lot of people come and go over the years," she finally said, "their lives pulling them in every direction for a lot of reasons, big and small. I’ve lost track of so many old friends. Some have died, some moved on, disappeared from my life, running from pain, or fear, shame, or just plain old boredom. I’m tired of losing people.” The old woman’s attention was fixed firmly in the present now, on Ed. “Your name isn’t Rockbell and never will be I guess, but you’re family nevertheless. Go if you have to, but don’t disappear. Right now she’s hurting from the rejection. Said some things in anger that she’ll regret later. She’ll get over it when she understands that her expectations weren’t fair to either of you.”

Ed’s shoulders slumped. “You think?”

“I know. Trust me. She’s got a good head on her shoulders. When she begins to miss her brother, she’ll realize her mistake.”

Ed hoped so. He was already feeling, deeply, the loss of his best friend, who’d had dreams for them he didn’t share. But for now . . .

Ed stood up to survey the dazzling horizon. 

“My train leaves at nine,” he said. Then he turned to meet Granny’s guarded expression. “I’ll keep in touch, and I’ll be back. Probably not soon, but that’s a promise.”

“See that you keep it, brat,” she said gruffly. “I’ll be here.”

The smile she tried to hide behind her pipe made her look years younger. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope everyone had a Happy New Year. 😊


End file.
